


everything is lost, all is gone

by thebrilliantcomet



Category: SKAM (Spain)
Genre: Character Death, F/F, Ghost Quartet AU, Paranormal, short mention of weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrilliantcomet/pseuds/thebrilliantcomet
Summary: "There lingered no room for trivial things, like books or a short game of cards, or for things that mattered, like love. The Soldier knew she didn’t believe in love. Soldiers don’t believe in anything. Not one cause, ghosts (even the ones that haunted her), or love."





	everything is lost, all is gone

**Author's Note:**

> hello el gee bee tee community! this is a short au based off of the strange little musical called "ghost quartet", which is a "song cycle about love, death and whiskey". it makes no sense. it's beautiful. 
> 
> as listed in the tags, there is a short mention of a gun, but the detail isn't graphic. any dialogue in italics that's in quotations belongs to dave malloy. ghost quartet belongs to dave malloy. skam españa and its characters do not belong to me. 
> 
> dedicated to the wonderful zo!

A dilapidated, stone bar on the corner of an old Sarajevo street invited The Soldier in after a long day of battle. Only a few patrons looked up when The Soldier entered. Her raggedy boots dragged across the floor, unlike the usual cadence they were used to. The Soldier (her moniker; she couldn’t remember what her real name) ignored the rueful, dead, stares of the patrons, finding a corner in which to sit in. It was part of her normal routine. Wake up, fight, rest, fight more, go to the bar, sleep, then fight again. There lingered no room for trivial things, like books or a short game of cards, or for things that mattered, like love. The Soldier knew she didn’t believe in love. Soldiers don’t believe in anything. Not one cause, ghosts (even the ones that haunted her), or love. _ But you used to, _ a voice she couldn’t recognize yet always heard, whispered in her mind. She shut the voice immediately, now listening to whatever old Édith Piath record crooned from the other corner of the room. Like clockwork, the bartender brought her a drink. She looked up, blonde strands of hair falling from their perfect place, and handed the bartender a coin, nodding a short “thank you”. After getting a curt response, The Soldier sighed and took the drink into her hands. 

“_I know I’ve got mine coming, _” she grumbled. 

The Soldier lived through this situation many times. Death snatches her lifeless soul in an abandoned alley after a night of pure bliss. Who takes her life tonight, though, The Soldier doesn’t know. Living through the same life, again and again, tired her. 

The door to the bar opened, distracting her from her mundane thoughts. A familiar, yet distant pulse began beating in her chest. The Soldier looked up from her drink. She locked eyes with the new figure. The figure (girl? ghost?) already looked right at her, ignoring the leers of the old men. The figure’s bright (Rose) red dress contrasted her dark hair, with purple tips falling down her shoulders. She swayed over to The Soldier’s table, with a quiet, yet knowing smile playing upon her lips. The words which fell out of her coy mouth dripped with familiarity. 

“_If I told you that I loved you, would you give me some honey? _”

The Soldier looked down at her hands then back at the figure and smiled with a sigh. 

“_I’ve got mine coming, it’s just a matter of time _.”

The figure- _you know her name, it’s Joana, and you are- _touched her hands, pulling her up on her feet. For the first time in her lifetime, The Soldier felt. Electricity ran through her veins, especially where Joana touched her. Her fingertips pulsated with this newfound spark. Feeling her heart in her throat, The Soldier followed Joana to the middle of the room. For a while, no patrons and their grimy stares bothered them. For a while, they disappeared. 

The room stood silent, barring the ever-playing Édith Piaf record. Clinging, they danced, both trembling in each other's embrace. Joana stroked her cheek, swaying.

“What we have is special, Soldier. It’s more than chemicals. _It’s_ _me and you and angels too and time will end and we’ll transcend, and I could never hurt you because you are me”, _Joana whispered into The Soldier’s ear. 

And The Soldier remembered. 

The Soldier remembered Joana’s grief, anger, jealousy, and love all at once. Joana, who lived as her daughter, her sister, her lover all at once. Joana, who wanted her pot of honey. Only wants her pot of honey. 

“_Do you believe in love, _Soldier?” Joana asked, both hands clasping her face. 

The Soldier stopped swaying. She felt her face streaming with tears, not even remembering starting to cry. Joana started wiping away the tears, which wouldn’t stop falling. The Soldier grabbed Joana’s hands in a harsh way, yet put them down in a gentle manner. She gulped and looked down at her mud-caked boots, reminded of who she was. Is. Always will be. 

She looked at Joana with a firm gaze, arms at her side, and repeated her mantra, “_I am a Soldier; I don’t believe in anything _ ”. She looked straight into Joana’s sad, lonesome eyes, and almost let down her guard. Almost. “_But if you’re gonna steal my honey, please wait until I’m drunk _.”

Whatever trance they were under broke, and the faces of the patrons returned. Yet, they drank until the night fell, as The Soldier requested. Stumbling out of the bar, Joana and The Soldier ambled down Sarajevo’s cobblestone streets, each holding the other person’s waist. The Soldier knew her time came. She knew she wouldn’t have the time to do all the things she wanted to do, such as sit and enjoy the breeze or feel any mutual companionship. 

The Soldier’s tent stood at the edge of a make-shift camp. A pot of honey stood between her and her inevitable demise. Another casualty to time.

Tonight, she desired a new ending. Not “new” in a sense where her fate changed. But one where she could control her death. Something in her wanted to grab time by its greedy hands and stop them from moving. Perhaps this desire came from the need to be with Joana, whose sad eyes captivated whatever was left of The Soldier’s soul. 

The Soldier prevented Joana from entering the tattered tent, and lead her to the alleyway she had seen many times before. Joana looked confused as The Soldier pulled her close and began dancing with her again. 

_ “Take me out to the dancefloor, and let me cry against your cheek,” _The Soldier begged, pressing her face to Joana’s warm cheek. 

“This no dancefloor,” Joana mumbled, pressing her face back, wrapping her arms around The Soldier’s waist. “You know how this ends, Soldier.”

The Soldier ignored Joana’s protestations, keeping her face against Joana’s cheek. And for what felt like the first time, The Soldier smiled, and let go of Joana. 

“You know,” The Soldier said, backing into the corner of the alley, “I think this lifetime hurt the most.'' Joana nodded, swallowing tears as she produced a gun. 

“I think, maybe, I loved you in another lifetime. Where I’m not a Soldier. Where I’m a normal girl. Where I’m Cristina.”

“You remember?”

“Every second.”

“Me too,” Joana whispered, closing her eyes as if remembering the same lifetime. “Make the same promise you make every time. For me?”

Cristina gazed straight at the barrel of the gun. Maybe in the next lifetime, she won’t be a Soldier. Maybe in the next lifetime, she the word “lover” won’t carry a deadly weight. She turned her gaze to Joana. Though they couldn’t feel it, their hearts raced to the same tempo. The words flew out of Cristina’s mouth as if scripted.

“_I won’t speak. I won’t say a word. I won’t come back to haunt you. I won’t have the time.” _

As soon as she spluttered “time”, pain bloomed in her chest. She wasn’t sure if the pain came from the actual bullet launched into her heart, or if the pain came from her heart breaking for the billionth time. Falling against the wall, Cristina saw Joana walk towards her. Cristina clutched her chest and looked up at Joana. 

“Look at the stars for me, dear Rose,” rasped Cristina, a short smile playing upon her lips. A flash of a cold emotion came across Joana’s (Rose’s) face as her breathing shortened. She shook her head before turning, throwing the gun, and running away. Cristina sighed as the voice returned like it did every time. She closed her eyes, bracing what came next. 

_ This lifetime is over, dear Cris. Do you feel it? _

“Yes, Pearl”, Cristina breathed, talking to no one. 

_ Do you know me? _

“But, of course! You are me. We have this talk every time.”

_ Yet you forget every time. _

“Maybe because I want to.” 

The voice tutted, then ceased to speak. Cristina grimaced, awaiting the coming morning. Her hope, for whatever came next, in whatever lifetime Pearl would be next, it won’t be Cris’s. Her life was far too happy for that. Cristina smiled. She forgot the details of the previous night, breath by short breath, turning back into The Soldier. Tonight appeared different, however. Cristina’s memories lingered on before she died. Confused, she opened her eyes again, taking every bit of strength left in her. She wasn’t forgetting. 

“Thank you, Pearl,” she murmured, fluttering her eyes shut.

_ Your soul is yours, Cristina. You are free to love again. _

“I hope you will too, someday, Pearl,” Cristina breathed, letting her newfound airiness carry her away into the unknown. 

**Author's Note:**

> ...anyway stream ghost quartet. feel free to kudos, leave a comment, or do both! i appreciate any constructive criticism as well! thank you for reading!!


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